


Speak or Die

by givemesumaurgravy



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Alternate Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Elio, Canon Compliant, Kissing, M/M, Meeting Again, Two Endings, Wedding, i think at least, top!oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 18:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13464240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemesumaurgravy/pseuds/givemesumaurgravy
Summary: “Elio?”Elio freezes where he’s standing at the reception desk. He had come down here to request extra pillows for his mother, and sure, he should have been prepared for this, seeing as  it’s his goddamn wedding after all,  but still. Elio was nowhere near prepared for hearing his name fall from those lips again.Or, what I believe would happen if Elio attended Oliver's wedding





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> well well well. this is my first fic in this fandom and it's really about damn time after I've been OBSESSED with Call Me By Your Name for the past like two weeks. Hopefully you find this to my compliant with the original story, both book and movie (though I've seen the movie three times now and haven't read the book completely - I've read it in pieces and I've read the ending)
> 
> I want to start by saying I LOVE the ending of the book and movie, I don't think it would be as good or powerful or make me feel so much if it had a traditional 'happy' ending. Because of this, I didn't write this fic as a 'fix-it' of sorts, because I don't think this story needs one, or honestly should even have one. That being said, I am a total hypocrite because I have two versions of this fic, one compliant with the ending of the book, and the second to give them their happily ever after together. It's like a 'choose your own adventure' book!
> 
> So yeah, basically, if you read part one, SPOILER he chooses the girl. If you want him to choose Elio in the end, read part two.

“Elio?”

Elio freezes where he’s standing at the reception desk. He had come down here to request extra pillows for his mother, and sure, he should have been prepared for this, seeing as it’s his goddamn wedding after all, but still. Elio was nowhere near prepared for hearing his name fall from those lips again.

But Elio turns all the same and comes face to face with Oliver. 

“What are you doing here?” Oliver asks, like it isn’t obvious.

_I’m here for you,_ Elio wants to say. _I’m here to make you realize you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. Don’t throw it all away for her, for a safe life with her. Choose me._

“You’re the one who sent the invitation. Or was it only extended to my parents?” Elio asks, stepping into Oliver’s space, extra pillows forgotten on the counter. 

Oliver appraises Elio for a few moments, eyes searching over his face, then down his neck and torso. They haven’t seen each other in nearly a year, and Elio feels like he can’t have changed that much, but he can tell Oliver is cataloging every minute difference.

“Come with me,” Oliver says and for a brief, glorious moment, Elio’s heart soars as Oliver curls his fingers around Elio’s wrist and they’re sneaking off just like they would back at the villa.

But Oliver doesn’t take him far, just walks him down a hallway to a more secluded corner. Elio presses himself back against the wall, watching Oliver carefully as he notices a hundred different thoughts flash across his face. 

“Why… why did you come?” Oliver asks again, voice strained. “I… I didn’t want you to have to see this.”

“I wanted to see you,” Elio says. 

Oliver nods, looking off in the distance but not really seeing anything, eyes far away, possibly back in Italy. Elio wants so badly to touch him, to hear him express what he’s thinking and take him on that journey with him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Oliver says after a moment. “I… I can’t bare it.”

Elio can’t take the small distance between them anymore, and he falls forward, head pressing into Oliver’s warm chest, hands coming up to caress Oliver’s neck, hating it when he feels him tense under the pads of his fingers. 

“Elio,” Elio says, soft, a desperate whisper, a challenge. “Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio.”

Elio feels it when Oliver lets out a long, labored breath and then he’s giving in and reaching to tangle his fingers in Elio’s soft curls. 

_“Oliver.”_

It’s barely a whisper, but Elio takes it for what it is - a surrender. Elio raises his head and lifts on his tiptoes, just enough to bring their mouths level, so close, but not touching. Oliver needs to choose this, give up the last shred of resolve and just… kiss him.

Elio waits, not daring to count the seconds as Oliver’s hot breath fans over his mouth and he wants so badly to tease his tongue over Oliver’s lips, tease him like that first time they’d kissed, but he restrains himself. 

“Oliver,” Oliver whispers again, a final submission, and then he’s kissing him.

It’s not like any kiss they’ve shared before, this one is desperate, even more forbidden and so, so good. Elio kisses Oliver back like he’s starved for it, like he’s been drowning and Oliver is finally granting him oxygen. 

And honestly, these past months without Oliver Elio has felt like he’s been underwater.

Then, all too soon, Oliver is breaking away, shoving Elio back. 

“We shouldn’t,” Oliver says. “I’m getting married in the morning.”

Elio steps into his space again, forcefully, tugging Oliver flush against him with a fistful of his button down. Oliver’s expression is firm, but Elio presses on. 

“Speak or die, Elio,” Elio says as his only argument. “Speak or die.”

With that, Elio slips away.

**~*~*~**

Elio’s parents know, though his father always knew more than his mother. They didn’t speak about it before deciding on all going on this trip to New York for the wedding, but he knew even without them saying a word that they were thinking about him and ready to pick up the pieces when it was all over. 

Elio went for a walk after dropping the pillows off with his parents, and they didn’t press when he quickly left the room again. He brought his music and a book to a park and poured himself into his work. 

Elio was able to pass a few solid hours in his own world before his hunger got the best of him and he had to return to the hotel for dinner. Elio kept his head down, not letting himself hope to run into Oliver again because he doesn’t think he can bear the disappointment if he doesn’t. 

When he gets back to the room, he greets his parents with a kiss on the cheek each, and his father nods his head towards the bed Elio will be using. Elio frowns, confused for a moment until he turns and notices the small folded note on his pillow. 

He doesn’t dare ask, just holds his breath and makes his way to the bed. Elio picks up the note with shaky fingers and opens it, breath whooshing out at the sight of familiar scrawl.

_It’s my turn to grow up. Meet me tonight at midnight. Room 452._

**~*~*~**

Around 9, Elio has to take off his watch because he checks it every two minutes. Elio’s thankful his parents are distracted with their old friends and he’s left to sit alone with his thoughts and nurse his beer.

There are plenty of pretty girls here, Elio notices, some even giving him encouraging looks, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. Part of him wishes he would, something to take the edge off or to simply make time go faster, but he can’t. Not when he knows they can’t live up to what Oliver can give him, will hopefully give him in just a mere three hours. 

Two more hours slide by painfully slow, and around 11:30, his parents bid their farewells, though Elio stays behind knowing very well if he goes back with them, he won’t have an excuse to leave and meet with Oliver. It’s best if he stays, leaving them under the impression he’s just out on the town still. 

Elio begins a little game with himself as he slips his watch back on his wrist - count to 300, then you can check the time. By 11:50, Elio leaves the bar and tries, but fails, to not sprint the whole way back to the hotel. 

As Elio climbs the stairs to the fourth floor two at a time, he slides his fingers in his pocket and fingers to note from Oliver, grounding himself that this is happening. 

Elio slows once he reaches the fourth floor, the light panic that this is actually happening finally settling in. Elio searches the hall for the room number, heart pounding the closer he gets. _448, 449, 450, 451…_

_452._

Elio takes two deep breaths and then knocks. He doesn’t know what he expected, but he’s surprised when the door opens immediately, revealing Oliver standing there. Oliver quickly pulls Elio into his room by a tight grip on his arm and closes the door the next second.

“You came,” Oliver says, almost like he’s surprised. 

Elio nods, fingers beginning to nervously toy with the hem of his shirt as he realizes he doesn’t know what to do or say now. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants Oliver to say back to him, but… he just can’t bring himself to open all the old wounds. Not when he doesn’t know what Oliver’s thinking yet. 

“I don’t want to be like the prince,” Oliver says. “I want to be brave enough to speak. I don’t… I don’t want to go the rest of my life without getting to have you, even if it’s just for one more night.”

“Don’t do this to me if it’s just going to be for tonight,” Elio says bravely. “I… you’ll kill me if I give myself to you again and you walk away.”

“Elio…” Oliver says, and hearing his own name come from him stings in ways it shouldn’t.

“Don’t do this to me,” Elio whispers voice shaking and cracking with the sudden onslaught of tears. “Please.”

Oliver pulls Elio into his arms and holds him as he sobs. Elio feels like he’s back in Italy, the day with the peach, when he broke down in Oliver’s arms, begging him not to go. He feels just as raw and vulnerable as he did then.

Elio feels himself shattering into a million pieces, needing Oliver to put him back together. Oliver, the man holding him who has the power to break him further, leave him beyond repair or to finally make him whole again. 

Elio pulls back enough to still be wrapped in Oliver’s arms but also enough to be able to look at him with pleading eyes. Oliver nods, subtly, but enough to let Elio know that he understands what Elio won’t dare ask for out loud. 

_Make love to me, Oliver. Show me that you still feel what I do._

And it’s like everything he’d just said out loud didn’t happen and Oliver’s picking him up and carrying him to bed, no promises made, yet Elio suddenly doesn’t care because for this moment, Oliver is his again and that’s all that matters. 

Oliver lays Elio out on the mattress, watches as Elio sprawls his limbs and Oliver looks like he’s mapping out what he’s going to do to him. It sends a shivery thrill through Elio and then Oliver’s joining him, climbing onto the mattress and covering Elio’s body with his own.

Oliver pushes Elio’s shirt up and buries his face in Elio’s stomach, dropping sloppy kisses to the soft, warm skin. Elio squirms against him, threads his fingers through Oliver’s hair and holds him there all the same.

_Don’t you dare stop touching me. You’ll kill me if you stop._

Oliver brings his fingers to Elio’s flies, making quick work to free him of their confines. Without much conscious thought, Elio lifts his hips to better help Oliver rid him of his pants. The sudden urge to be and naked to be naked _now_ is overwhelming, and Elio sits up just enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it off the bed. 

Elio’s not shy, not with Oliver, but he can’t help but blush with the way Oliver looks at his naked body, like it’s the most glorious thing he’s ever seen. Instead of simply basking in his attention, Elio turns to making Oliver equally exposed, tearing at his shirt and hoping Oliver will get the message and help him out.

Soon they’re both naked and drawn to each other like magnets, coming together like they’re made for this, made for each other. Elio kisses Oliver without restraint, knowing very well this might be the last time he gets to have him like this, knowing he needs to pull out all of the stops.

They kiss for a while, enjoying each other and the slick slide of tongue and lips, eventually moving on to grinding their bodies together. It’s hot, and in Elio’s young age, definitely enough to get him off, but he knows what he wants, and it’s not merely this.

“Need you to…” Elio practically gasps, Oliver turning his attentions to the previously unmarked, pale column of Elio’s throat.

“Use your words,” Oliver growls, not letting up on his assault to Elio’s neck as Elio claws his nails into Oliver’s back.

_“Elio,”_ Elio moans, Oliver biting on his jaw. “Take me. Please.”

Oliver pulls up then, mouth red and raw, eyes dark with desire as he nods. Elio wraps his arms around Oliver’s shoulders, legs curling around his hips as he grinds up once more for good measure. 

Oliver brings his hand to Elio’s swollen mouth, dipping three fingers inside when Elio opens immediately. Elio closes his lips around the offering, tongue sliding over each finger and teasing against the pads. Elio holds Oliver’s gaze as he does, and he desperately wants _more._

Elio’s always had an oral fixation of sorts. He noticed it mostly during their summer together, how he would yearn to taste Oliver, seek with his mouth first, always tug his Star of David between his lips when he was deep in thought, a way to calm himself down. 

Right now it’s manifesting in an intoxicating, acute desire to have something much larger, heavier, hotter than just Oliver’s fingers between his lips. Elio wants Oliver’s cock. 

Oliver pulls his fingers out slowly, but Elio chases them until Oliver chastises him with a shake of his head and a muttered, _“Fucking insatiable, aren’t you?”_

Elio makes a show of licking his lips and shrugs. Oliver slides down Elio’s body until he’s lying perpendicular to Elio’s hips, head on his thigh and fingers already rubbing at Elio’s puckered hole. From this angle, all Elio has to do is turn his head and he has a clear view of what he so desperately wants. 

So, just as Oliver’s pressing in with his first finger, Elio falls to his side and finally takes Oliver between his lips. Oliver curses, shoving his spit slick finger further inside Elio and making him whine around his mouthful of cock.

“Elio,” Oliver warns, turning his face to bite the sensitive skin of Elio’s thigh. 

Elio wraps a hand around the base of Oliver’s cock and mostly pulls off, cockhead still glistening between his cherry lips, eyes meeting Oliver’s with eyebrows raised in a challenge. Oliver just curses again and focuses his attention back on preparing Elio for him. Elio smiles to himself and turns all of his focus back onto Oliver’s cock, testing himself to discover what he likes and to see how far he can push himself.

Oliver was always the one to so willingly do this back in Italy. Always so ready and willing to drop to his knees and pleasure Elio, tease him mostly, but it was Elio’s turn now to see what all the fuss was about and as it turns out, he finds having a cock buried in his throat to be quite heavenly. 

Elio chokes himself a few times, too eager, but he recovers quickly and goes right back at it. Oliver, to his benefit, is not shy about showing his lover how much he is enjoying his efforts and is moaning and doing everything in his power to try and pleasure Elio with his fingers, now three deep, as much as Elio is pleasing him.

It’s about the time that Elio finally manages to bury as much of Oliver down his throat that he can press his nose into the coarse thicket of hair at the base of Oliver’s cock that Oliver pulls his fingers out and declares enough is enough.

Elio whines as Oliver grabs him by the hair and as gently as possible with a fistful of someone’s hair, pulls him off. 

“I was going to come if you continued any longer,” Oliver says, diving in for a filthy, opened mouth kiss, tongue prying into Elio’s mouth to chase the taste of himself.

Elio whines, pliant to Oliver’s grip still in his hair and lets Oliver take everything he wants. _Take everything, everything I have is yours, only yours, all for you._

They don’t speak again, just move silently, communicating with touch and looks when necessary. Oliver lays Elio out on his back and mounts him, cock hanging heavy between their bodies until he coats himself with a generous amount of spit and guides himself where he needs to go and pushes in.

They’d done this countless times, sometimes like this, sometimes with Elio being the one doing it, but Elio never got over the feeling of Oliver first entering him. It was always good, slightly painful and overwhelming, but so, so good it never failed to punch the breath right out of him. 

Oliver doesn’t wait, how could he when he finally had Elio wrapped around him again? Elio whines, it all being too much too quickly, but Oliver soothes him with kisses all around his face and purrs in his ear, _“Shh, Oliver. My Oliver.”_

Elio doesn’t realize it until their nearly eight thrusts in that he’s crying. Oliver has his face buried in Elio’s neck, breathing hot and ragged as he thrusts hard and fast into Elio’s willing and pliant body. Elio is shaking with pleasure, so overwhelmed by it all that hot tears flood his eyes and his mouth falls open with silent sobs. 

If Elio could, he would live in his moment of pure, overwhelming desire forever. 

It’s over all to soon, though. Oliver comes inside him, the feeling of his release spreading inside him, marking him, claiming him, enough for Elio to come without needing to touch his cock even once. Elio cries harder as he comes, his own name on his lips as Oliver holds him through it, kissing away his tears. 

They lay wrapped up in each other afterwards, holding onto each other desperately like the mere thought of letting go would be too much to bear. 

Elio wants desperately to have more time. He traces every line of Oliver’s body with his fingers, trying to memorize every curve and imperfection then decides to use his lips instead, all the better to commit every detail to memory. 

“Come away with me,” Elio whispers after they’ve been too quiet for too long, both wrapped up in their own heads. 

Oliver looks like he’s going to speak, but Elio shakes his head, pressing a finger to Oliver’s lips and Oliver playfully bites it. 

“Don’t say anything. Not yet. Just… imagine what it could be like. You and me. This is what I propose - We’d backpack around Europe and then make our way to Asia. I’ll put off school for a year and we just… go. Then you can come back to your job and I’ll go to university. I just… I want us to be together, enjoying each other, enjoying the world,” Elio explains.

Oliver traces his finger along Elio’s cheek and jaw, licking his lips and then opening his mouth, but Elio shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to speak of it any more than to say this,” Elio says, Oliver’s fingers playing absentmindedly with his curls. “If you’re not here when I wake up, I’ll have my answer, but know that you’ll never be as happy… as complete… with her as you could be with me.”

With that, Elio rolls over, pulling Oliver’s arm tight around him and closes his eyes.

**~*~*~**

When Elio wakes up, it takes him all of two seconds to realize he’s alone. 

Elio squeezes his eyes shut tighter, not able to accept just yet that Oliver didn’t choose him, that Oliver took the easy way out. 

Elio finally rolls and sits up, opening his eyes and taking in the empty room around him. He briefly wonders how Oliver managed to pack up and leave without waking him, but he quickly decides instead to push out any thought of Oliver all together.

Elio gets dressed quickly, fighting the panic and instead focuses on getting one foot through his pants at a time. When that’s taken care of, he turns his full attention to getting his shirt on, then his shoes. 

When Elio leaves the room, he decides to leave all memories of Oliver with it. 

Elio’s parents must know better than to ask him where he’s been when he re-enters their room. They only have a short amount of time before they have to get to the wedding and so Elio quickly showers, washing away any trace of Oliver, save for the bruises he’s left marred on Elio’s porcelain skin, and changes without a word. 

Elio stays silent on their ride to the chapel and still doesn’t speak as they find their seats and the ceremony starts. Oliver stands at the front of the church and Elio shuts off all emotion as the congregation rises for the bride to process in. 

Elio is reminded of the talk his father had with him when Oliver left the first time, that it would be a waste to not feel anything to save himself from feeling the pain, but right now, Elio doesn’t think he can bear it. Elio knows after today, he’s never going to be the same and he’s leaving a part of him here with Oliver.

As Elio watches Oliver and his wife exchange their vows Elio allows him one last window to think of Oliver, one last silent plea, _even though you have hurt me beyond all fathomable measure, I would still run to you, would you turn to me now, one last time, and call me by your name. My heart lies with you, my Elio, forever._  



	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's the happy together ending! 
> 
> Enjoy <3

“Elio?”

Elio freezes where he’s standing at the reception desk. He had come down here to request extra pillows for his mother, and sure, he should have been prepared for this, seeing as it’s his goddamn wedding after all, but still. Elio was nowhere near prepared for hearing his name fall from those lips again.

But Elio turns all the same and comes face to face with Oliver. 

“What are you doing here?” Oliver asks, like it isn’t obvious.

_I’m here for you,_ Elio wants to say. _I’m here to make you realize you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. Don’t throw it all away for her, for a safe life with her. Choose me._

“You’re the one who sent the invitation. Or was it only extended to my parents?” Elio asks, stepping into Oliver’s space, extra pillows forgotten on the counter. 

Oliver appraises Elio for a few moments, eyes searching over his face, then down his neck and torso. They haven’t seen each other in nearly a year, and Elio feels like he can’t have changed that much, but he can tell Oliver is cataloging every minute difference.

“Come with me,” Oliver says and for a brief, glorious moment, Elio’s heart soars as Oliver curls his fingers around Elio’s wrist and they’re sneaking off just like they would back at the villa.

But Oliver doesn’t take him far, just walks him down a hallway to a more secluded corner. Elio presses himself back against the wall, watching Oliver carefully as he notices a hundred different thoughts flash across his face. 

“Why… why did you come?” Oliver asks again, voice strained. “I… I didn’t want you to have to see this.”

“I wanted to see you,” Elio says. 

Oliver nods, looking off in the distance but not really seeing anything, eyes far away, possibly back in Italy. Elio wants so badly to touch him, to hear him express what he’s thinking and take him on that journey with him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Oliver says after a moment. “I… I can’t bare it.”

Elio can’t take the small distance between them anymore, and he falls forward, head pressing into Oliver’s warm chest, hands coming up to caress Oliver’s neck, hating it when he feels him tense under the pads of his fingers. 

“Elio,” Elio says, soft, a desperate whisper, a challenge. “Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio.”

Elio feels it when Oliver lets out a long, labored breath and then he’s giving in and reaching to tangle his fingers in Elio’s soft curls. 

_“Oliver.”_

It’s barely a whisper, but Elio takes it for what it is - a surrender. Elio raises his head and lifts on his tiptoes, just enough to bring their mouths level, so close, but not touching. Oliver needs to choose this, give up the last shred of resolve and just… kiss him.

Elio waits, not daring to count the seconds as Oliver’s hot breath fans over his mouth and he wants so badly to tease his tongue over Oliver’s lips, tease him like that first time they’d kissed, but he restrains himself. 

“Oliver,” Oliver whispers again, a final submission, and then he’s kissing him.

It’s not like any kiss they’ve shared before, this one is desperate, even more forbidden and so, so good. Elio kisses Oliver back like he’s starved for it, like he’s been drowning and Oliver is finally granting him oxygen. 

And honestly, these past months without Oliver Elio has felt like he’s been underwater.

Then, all too soon, Oliver is breaking away, shoving Elio back. 

“We shouldn’t,” Oliver says. “I’m getting married in the morning.”

Elio steps into his space again, forcefully, tugging Oliver flush against him with a fistful of his button down. Oliver’s expression is firm, but Elio presses on. 

“Speak or die, Elio,” Elio says as his only argument. “Speak or die.”

With that, Elio slips away.

**~*~*~**

Elio’s parents know, though his father always knew more than his mother. They didn’t speak about it before deciding on all going on this trip to New York for the wedding, but he knew even without them saying a word that they were thinking about him and ready to pick up the pieces when it was all over. 

Elio went for a walk after dropping the pillows off with his parents, and they didn’t press when he quickly left the room again. He brought his music and a book to a park and poured himself into his work. 

Elio was able to pass a few solid hours in his own world before his hunger got the best of him and he had to return to the hotel for dinner. Elio kept his head down, not letting himself hope to run into Oliver again because he doesn’t think he can bear the disappointment if he doesn’t. 

When he gets back to the room, he greets his parents with a kiss on the cheek each, and his father nods his head towards the bed Elio will be using. Elio frowns, confused for a moment until he turns and notices the small folded note on his pillow. 

He doesn’t dare ask, just holds his breath and makes his way to the bed. Elio picks up the note with shaky fingers and opens it, breath whooshing out at the sight of familiar scrawl.

_It’s my turn to grow up. Meet me tonight at midnight. Room 452._

**~*~*~**

Around 9, Elio has to take off his watch because he checks it every two minutes. Elio’s thankful his parents are distracted with their old friends and he’s left to sit alone with his thoughts and nurse his beer.

There are plenty of pretty girls here, Elio notices, some even giving him encouraging looks, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. Part of him wishes he would, something to take the edge off or to simply make time go faster, but he can’t. Not when he knows they can’t live up to what Oliver can give him, will hopefully give him in just a mere three hours. 

Two more hours slide by painfully slow, and around 11:30, his parents bid their farewells, though Elio stays behind knowing very well if he goes back with them, he won’t have an excuse to leave and meet with Oliver. It’s best if he stays, leaving them under the impression he’s just out on the town still. 

Elio begins a little game with himself as he slips his watch back on his wrist - count to 300, then you can check the time. By 11:50, Elio leaves the bar and tries, but fails, to not sprint the whole way back to the hotel. 

As Elio climbs the stairs to the fourth floor two at a time, he slides his fingers in his pocket and fingers to note from Oliver, grounding himself that this is happening. 

Elio slows once he reaches the fourth floor, the light panic that this is actually happening finally settling in. Elio searches the hall for the room number, heart pounding the closer he gets. _448, 449, 450, 451…_

_452._

Elio takes two deep breaths and then knocks. He doesn’t know what he expected, but he’s surprised when the door opens immediately, revealing Oliver standing there. Oliver quickly pulls Elio into his room by a tight grip on his arm and closes the door the next second.

“You came,” Oliver says, almost like he’s surprised. 

Elio nods, fingers beginning to nervously toy with the hem of his shirt as he realizes he doesn’t know what to do or say now. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants Oliver to say back to him, but… he just can’t bring himself to open all the old wounds. Not when he doesn’t know what Oliver’s thinking yet. 

“I don’t want to be like the prince,” Oliver says. “I want to be brave enough to speak. I don’t… I don’t want to go the rest of my life without getting to have you, even if it’s just for one more night.”

“Don’t do this to me if it’s just going to be for tonight,” Elio says bravely. “I… you’ll kill me if I give myself to you again and you walk away.”

“Elio…” Oliver says, and hearing his own name come from him stings in ways it shouldn’t.

“Don’t do this to me,” Elio whispers voice shaking and cracking with the sudden onslaught of tears. “Please.”

Oliver pulls Elio into his arms and holds him as he sobs. Elio feels like he’s back in Italy, the day with the peach, when he broke down in Oliver’s arms, begging him not to go. He feels just as raw and vulnerable as he did then.

Elio feels himself shattering into a million pieces, needing Oliver to put him back together. Oliver, the man holding him who has the power to break him further, leave him beyond repair or to finally make him whole again. 

Elio pulls back enough to still be wrapped in Oliver’s arms but also enough to be able to look at him with pleading eyes. Oliver nods, subtly, but enough to let Elio know that he understands what Elio won’t dare ask for out loud. 

_Make love to me, Oliver. Show me that you still feel what I do._

And it’s like everything he’d just said out loud didn’t happen and Oliver’s picking him up and carrying him to bed, no promises made, yet Elio suddenly doesn’t care because for this moment, Oliver is his again and that’s all that matters. 

Oliver lays Elio out on the mattress, watches as Elio sprawls his limbs and Oliver looks like he’s mapping out what he’s going to do to him. It sends a shivery thrill through Elio and then Oliver’s joining him, climbing onto the mattress and covering Elio’s body with his own.

Oliver pushes Elio’s shirt up and buries his face in Elio’s stomach, dropping sloppy kisses to the soft, warm skin. Elio squirms against him, threads his fingers through Oliver’s hair and holds him there all the same.

_Don’t you dare stop touching me. You’ll kill me if you stop._

Oliver brings his fingers to Elio’s flies, making quick work to free him of their confines. Without much conscious thought, Elio lifts his hips to better help Oliver rid him of his pants. The sudden urge to be and naked to be naked _now_ is overwhelming, and Elio sits up just enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it off the bed. 

Elio’s not shy, not with Oliver, but he can’t help but blush with the way Oliver looks at his naked body, like it’s the most glorious thing he’s ever seen. Instead of simply basking in his attention, Elio turns to making Oliver equally exposed, tearing at his shirt and hoping Oliver will get the message and help him out.

Soon they’re both naked and drawn to each other like magnets, coming together like they’re made for this, made for each other. Elio kisses Oliver without restraint, knowing very well this might be the last time he gets to have him like this, knowing he needs to pull out all of the stops.

They kiss for a while, enjoying each other and the slick slide of tongue and lips, eventually moving on to grinding their bodies together. It’s hot, and in Elio’s young age, definitely enough to get him off, but he knows what he wants, and it’s not merely this.

“Need you to…” Elio practically gasps, Oliver turning his attentions to the previously unmarked, pale column of Elio’s throat.

“Use your words,” Oliver growls, not letting up on his assault to Elio’s neck as Elio claws his nails into Oliver’s back.

_“Elio,”_ Elio moans, Oliver biting on his jaw. “Take me. Please.”

Oliver pulls up then, mouth red and raw, eyes dark with desire as he nods. Elio wraps his arms around Oliver’s shoulders, legs curling around his hips as he grinds up once more for good measure. 

Oliver brings his hand to Elio’s swollen mouth, dipping three fingers inside when Elio opens immediately. Elio closes his lips around the offering, tongue sliding over each finger and teasing against the pads. Elio holds Oliver’s gaze as he does, and he desperately wants _more._

Elio’s always had an oral fixation of sorts. He noticed it mostly during their summer together, how he would yearn to taste Oliver, seek with his mouth first, always tug his Star of David between his lips when he was deep in thought, a way to calm himself down. 

Right now it’s manifesting in an intoxicating, acute desire to have something much larger, heavier, hotter than just Oliver’s fingers between his lips. Elio wants Oliver’s cock. 

Oliver pulls his fingers out slowly, but Elio chases them until Oliver chastises him with a shake of his head and a muttered, _“Fucking insatiable, aren’t you?”_

Elio makes a show of licking his lips and shrugs. Oliver slides down Elio’s body until he’s lying perpendicular to Elio’s hips, head on his thigh and fingers already rubbing at Elio’s puckered hole. From this angle, all Elio has to do is turn his head and he has a clear view of what he so desperately wants. 

So, just as Oliver’s pressing in with his first finger, Elio falls to his side and finally takes Oliver between his lips. Oliver curses, shoving his spit slick finger further inside Elio and making him whine around his mouthful of cock.

“Elio,” Oliver warns, turning his face to bite the sensitive skin of Elio’s thigh. 

Elio wraps a hand around the base of Oliver’s cock and mostly pulls off, cockhead still glistening between his cherry lips, eyes meeting Oliver’s with eyebrows raised in a challenge. Oliver just curses again and focuses his attention back on preparing Elio for him. Elio smiles to himself and turns all of his focus back onto Oliver’s cock, testing himself to discover what he likes and to see how far he can push himself.

Oliver was always the one to so willingly do this back in Italy. Always so ready and willing to drop to his knees and pleasure Elio, tease him mostly, but it was Elio’s turn now to see what all the fuss was about and as it turns out, he finds having a cock buried in his throat to be quite heavenly. 

Elio chokes himself a few times, too eager, but he recovers quickly and goes right back at it. Oliver, to his benefit, is not shy about showing his lover how much he is enjoying his efforts and is moaning and doing everything in his power to try and pleasure Elio with his fingers, now three deep, as much as Elio is pleasing him.

It’s about the time that Elio finally manages to bury as much of Oliver down his throat that he can press his nose into the coarse thicket of hair at the base of Oliver’s cock that Oliver pulls his fingers out and declares enough is enough.

Elio whines as Oliver grabs him by the hair and as gently as possible with a fistful of someone’s hair, pulls him off. 

“I was going to come if you continued any longer,” Oliver says, diving in for a filthy, opened mouth kiss, tongue prying into Elio’s mouth to chase the taste of himself.

Elio whines, pliant to Oliver’s grip still in his hair and lets Oliver take everything he wants. _Take everything, everything I have is yours, only yours, all for you._

They don’t speak again, just move silently, communicating with touch and looks when necessary. Oliver lays Elio out on his back and mounts him, cock hanging heavy between their bodies until he coats himself with a generous amount of spit and guides himself where he needs to go and pushes in.

They’d done this countless times, sometimes like this, sometimes with Elio being the one doing it, but Elio never got over the feeling of Oliver first entering him. It was always good, slightly painful and overwhelming, but so, so good it never failed to punch the breath right out of him. 

Oliver doesn’t wait, how could he when he finally had Elio wrapped around him again? Elio whines, it all being too much too quickly, but Oliver soothes him with kisses all around his face and purrs in his ear, _“Shh, Oliver. My Oliver.”_

Elio doesn’t realize it until their nearly eight thrusts in that he’s crying. Oliver has his face buried in Elio’s neck, breathing hot and ragged as he thrusts hard and fast into Elio’s willing and pliant body. Elio is shaking with pleasure, so overwhelmed by it all that hot tears flood his eyes and his mouth falls open with silent sobs. 

If Elio could, he would live in his moment of pure, overwhelming desire forever. 

It’s over all to soon, though. Oliver comes inside him, the feeling of his release spreading inside him, marking him, claiming him, enough for Elio to come without needing to touch his cock even once. Elio cries harder as he comes, his own name on his lips as Oliver holds him through it, kissing away his tears. 

They lay wrapped up in each other afterwards, holding onto each other desperately like the mere thought of letting go would be too much to bear. 

Elio wants desperately to have more time. He traces every line of Oliver’s body with his fingers, trying to memorize every curve and imperfection then decides to use his lips instead, all the better to commit every detail to memory. 

“Come away with me,” Elio whispers after they’ve been too quiet for too long, both wrapped up in their own heads. 

Oliver looks like he’s going to speak, but Elio shakes his head, pressing a finger to Oliver’s lips and Oliver playfully bites it. 

“Don’t say anything. Not yet. Just… imagine what it could be like. You and me. This is what I propose - We’d backpack around Europe and then make our way to Asia. I’ll put off school for a year and we just… go. Then you can come back to your job and I’ll go to university. I just… I want us to be together, enjoying each other, enjoying the world,” Elio explains.

Oliver traces his finger along Elio’s cheek and jaw, licking his lips and then opening his mouth, but Elio shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to speak of it any more than to say this,” Elio says, Oliver’s fingers playing absentmindedly with his curls. “If you’re not here when I wake up, I’ll have my answer, but know that you’ll never be as happy… as complete… with her as you could be with me.”

With that, Elio rolls over, pulling Oliver’s arm tight around him and closes his eyes.

**~*~*~**

When Elio wakes up in the morning, he immediately wants to cry at the feeling of a warm, familiar body pressed against his. 

Elio opens his eyes after a moment of letting himself bask in the joy of having Oliver here and then rolls to face him.

“Your hair’s different,” Oliver says, toying with the longer curls falling in Elio’s face. 

“Do you like it?” Elio asks shyly, biting Oliver’s shoulder playfully.

“I do,” Oliver says. “It’s more mature.”

Elio scrunches his face at him and Oliver laughs. 

“I know it’s only been a year, but you’ve grown. You’re more of a man now. I can see it.”

“I’m so fucking happy you’re still here,” Elio says, blushing under Oliver's intense gaze. 

“Me, too,” Oliver says. “I’m holding you to those travel plans, too? Where shall we go first?”

Elio grins, he knows just the place.

**Author's Note:**

> *runs and hides*
> 
> let me know how you feel about this? I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it!
> 
> sending love and hugs to all of you :)
> 
> <3


End file.
